Because you're amazing and you don't know it
Because you're smart and you don't believe it;
You're the kind of girl that guys don't get over
& you're the kind of girl other girls get compared to.
------

Fine, I get it.
Y'all DON'T have birds in your ears.

...Gaw. 'Tis just a song, lovelies; no need to take it so literally.
BUTBUT I still love that song, WHICH MEANS that it stays on.
For now.

Anyways. I'm sitting here in front of a rained-on window and having a fatfree hot chocolate in an armchair stuffed with comfy cushions and just being a happy stoner in general.
Yay. Go all happy stoners all over the world.

The fact that there's training tomorrow gives me a funny feeling in my stummick. ...I shall push myself to canoe however far I'm supposed to; and I will try not to splash overly much and I shall not give in and I won't back down and I will remember to apply sunblock so I don't get a twotoned tan.
And then I intend to drag Shu and Maxy around for a jog after training. Aaaand then we shall all collapse in a lovely sunburnt heap; head back to Maxy's place, and I shall have lunch there with them, yes I shall. [I just realized that Maxy and I tend to order identical meals now, heeee. Like, last week we both had veg rolls and Diet Cokes for lunch. ...Which mustuv looked puhretty strange; the both of us eating zackly the same things, but after all, we're practically sisters, so who really gives a hoot anyways.]

...About my life?
We-ell. Boywise, I'm still pretty much where I was at the start. [If only cute guys could gawk at me, and not dirty old men. Meh.] Foodwise...Mummy brought Jon, Jana and I out to Jack's Place last night for dinner. Dad's in the U.S again, but he says that we'll have Thanksgiving dinner when he comes back, so's. Anyway, so Mums tried to get me to order a filet mignon steak platter; but then I looked at the menu and I envisioned myself ackshually putting a wad of poor dead cow into my mouth and then swallowing it [!!!], and I almost got sick all over the garlic bread.
So I ordered grilled crayfish instead. Which was vereeee good, by the way.
[Being a pescatarian doesn't mean you have to starve yourself.]

Ohyes and we went to the library! ...And I found this ahdorable book called "The Otherworld: How to bring fairies into your life". Heeeeeee.
I flipped through it, and there was this one part about "How to catch a Dryad". The book suggests planting a tree in a special place in one's garden; and then regularly visiting it, hugging it, and talking to it.

Kay, and I'd love to try that. The only problem is that with Singapore's climate, the only plant I'll be able to grow successfully will probably be a measly bean plant. Not that there's anything wrong with a bean plant, of course.
Maybe I'll plant the beanplant where I buried my hamster. Yes, and then I will visit it everyday and talk to it like the knowledgable little sprout that it is.
...The thing is; if I hug it, I'll crush it.
And then I'll probably end up eating it for dinner one day, so I don't think the Dryad of the beanplant [if any] would be very pleased, zackly.

So that's a no to the beanplant Dryad, then.

Oh well.

...Gah, I have to go. I need to put in some tinkling time on the piano [Hear that, Nic? ...Cara actually plays the piano! Gaspshockhorror!] ; and then I shall mrt to meet up with Pretentious for our bandmeeting.

But before I go; here's a thought from last night. [Yes. Random genius inspiration strikes again.]
See- no matter how much you diet to get down to a size whatever; or how expensive you get your clothes at to look like the latest CK jeans model; or how much mascara you wear; or how loudly you laugh and how hard you pretend to be the most popular, most loved person around...the truth is that there'll always be somebody better at it than you.
There'll be somebody far skinnier than you; far richer and who looks better in designer clothes than you do; who looks like a total bombshell without mascara; somebody who has lovelier teeth than you do and who happens to just be naturally more popular than you could ever hope or want to be.

There'll always be somebody better.

...But here's the thing.
There'll always be somebody who does something better than you.
But there's nobody- absolutely nobody- who could be YOU, better than you can.

So listen up, people. Just be yourself. Call it cliched, call it oversaid. Whatev. I couldn't care less.
But I DO care that this message gets out to as many people as possible.

Being YOU is the best thing you could ever be. Who cares about being the thinnest/most expensive/best-looking/most popular/whateverelseyoucouldthinkof person?

God loves us all just as we are; and I, for one, think that totally owns.

<3!